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Saturday, September 29, 2012

How does a daughter say goodbye?

Carolyn Marie Blacketer ca. 1943

How does a
daughter say goodbye?

I remember
most mornings you woke me up with, “Top of the mornin’ to ya and the rest of
the day to me.” And that always woke me up because you made me giggle. And no matter how much I tried, I never, ever could beat you to saying it.

I remember
your big smile and the twinkle in your eyes.

And your
fierce loyalty. I may have been completely and utterly wrong about something,
but you were always there to back me up – no matter what. Do you know how rare
that is?!?

I remember
Saturday morning shopping at the mall and your generosity to everyone. No one
ever caught you on Christmas unawares - even if they showed up on Christmas Day. You always had a present for them. And what about the Christmas where you made up all those rhyming clues and made
me hunt for each of my Christmas presents? Oh, how I loved that.

I remember
your stories and pep talks. How could I ever, ever forget the life-altering story you told me of our long line of managing women? Or when I turned thirteen you said, “Now,
Caroline, I’ve already been through three teenagers. So, I’ve heard it all. I
don’t want to ever hear you say you want to do something just because everyone
else is doing it. Would you jump off a bridge if everyone else were doing it?
No. No, you wouldn’t.” [The 'Duh.' was understood.]

I remember
watching our T.V. shows together. I still watch them. When I'm watching Designing Women and The Golden Girls, you’re always right there laughing with me.

I remember
all those times you took me to the library. And now I can’t walk into a library without
thinking of you. [And considering what I do, that happens a lot.] And what about all those romance books you used to read? I somehow picked that up from you.

I remember
your big strong hugs when I needed them the most. And every time you said, “I
love you.”

I remember
being grounded by Dad numerous times and not being able to go outside or watch T.V. for a
week. And how while we’d read in the living room together after dinner during that week, you’d stop reading and say, “When
is your father going to learn taking away your reading would be a better
punishment?” And I’d answer, “I dunno.” Then we’d go back to reading. *snort*

And your
other words of wisdom? “People in hell want ice water, Caroline. Doesn’t mean
they’re gonna get it.” And, “If wishes were horses, beggars could ride.” And
the sayings I know you got from Gran: like saying “God bless America and all the
ships at sea,” when all you wanna do is damn whatever it is that’s upsetting
you. And the ever-so-wise, “’To each his own,’ said the old lady when she
kissed the cow and the old man who peed in the sea to keep the boat from
sinking.” And now whenever I'm upset or stumped, I can't help but think of blessing America, of blessing her ships at sea, of an old lady who must have really loved that cow, and of an old man with creative problem-solving skills.

So.

How does a daughter say goodbye?

Mom & me in a Ghost Town in West Texas in Jul 1977.

The answer,
of course, is...

...she doesn't.

She laughs.

She cries.

She
remembers.

She laughs
some more.

Then she
cries again.

Then she
tells.

And then
cries some more.

And then she says, “I
love you. And I’m gonna miss you somethin' fierce, Mom.”

Oh Caroline, that was beautiful! Such a beautiful and moving tribute to your mom. Your love for her and her love for you shines through this post. Thank you so much for sharing such a personal part of your life and loss with us.

I wish I could tell you that the road ahead is easy, but I will tell you that I'm so sorry to hear of your loss and that I wish I could just give you one big hug. There aren't any words I can offer of comfort, but know that you have lots of shoulders (including mine) to lean on.

Caroline - some one told me that as long as a memory of some one is kept alive, that person isn't really gone. You are blessed to have very special, warm and loving memories of your mother. I hope they give you some comfort during this very painful and sad time. My thoughts and prayers are with you and your family.

Caroline, so very sorry for your loss. What a blessing to have such wonderful clear memories of your mom. In the midst of our grief there is nothing as comforting as taking a moment to remember special moments. A certain song, a perfume scent, an amazing adventure, words of advice and those quiet moments. Your mother gave you those and many more. Will be keeping you and your family in thought and prayer.

Caroline, what a wonderful tribute and a beautifully written memory of your relationship with your mother. A healing for you and a legacy for your children. Thinking of you and your family at this difficult time.

Caroline, as you remember your mom with these words, it's obvious where you got much of your personality, spunk and grace. A beautiful tribute, artfully written by a loving daughter. Blessings to you, your entire family and those who were in your mom's life. She was clearly a remarkable woman. ((Hugs))

Oh Caroline - that made me cry...in a good way. I can't imagine what you are going through, but I know that your Mom will always be with you. My mom once told me that even 10 years after her father was gone something would come up in her life and she's immediately think, "Oh I need to call Daddy and tell him...." before she realized that she couldn't call him, but at the same time she was sure he already knew.

Love and prayers for you - and thank you so much for sharing your Mom with us this way!!

You have written a splendid eulogy of your mom, full of the best kinds of praise. She was there for you, and she was there with you. She modeled for you a sparkling sense of humor, wisdom to weather the absurdities of life, and an unshakeable confidence. These must be only a few of the amazing gifts she gave to you, all showing her love for her fourth teenager. Her hugs and her pep talks instilled in you a self-esteem that no one can take away. Reading your tribute, I'm convinced that your mom is the reason that the tiara belongs to you. How very, very fortunate you are to have had a mom who loved you unconditionally, and who was also your pal. You don't have to say goodbye, really, because she'll never leave your heart. My beloved sister passed in 2002, and I'm always telling her photo what she would like to hear -- some relationships seem to continue past death. Be consoled. We are all grateful for your eloquent post.

How happy I am for you that you have such beautiful memories of your mother, yet I sorrow with you that your mother is no longer here to create more with you. May you find comfort in this time. My prayers and best wishes are with you and your family.

Caroline - I loved reading your sweet memories of your dear mother. I'm so glad that you had such wonderful times together, and so sorry that you had to lose her. You and your family and in my prayers as you grieve her loss.

What wonderful memories you and your mother created together. Sending prayers and hopes for strength your way. This has been a difficult month; we also lost my wonderful mother-in-law recently. Now we must pass down memories of these wonderful women!

Caroline, what a lovely tribute to your amazing mother. I can feel her sparkle radiating from your words, and the warmth of your memories. I hope those memories bring you comfort and strength. My deepest sympathies to you and your family at this sad time.

Shades of the Departed

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About Me

As a genealogist, a family historian, a writer, and a blog
author, I've been blogging stories about my ancestors since 2009
on Family
Stories. Additionally, I've been having epic results
combining family history, genealogy, technology, research services, tutorials, and videos on my blog 4YourFamilyStory.com.

When I'm not blogging about dead people,
coaching others on how to use technology to find dead people, or researching
other people’s dead people, I can usually be found in an antique store
searching for letters, post cards, tickets, photos, books, etc. once
owned by people who are now dead.